


Accidental Alliance

by Lostinfantasies38



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annoying roommate, Awkward Sexual Situations, Best Friends, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Revenge prank, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38
Summary: Cullen has a problem with his annoying roommate. He calls his best friend for harmless revenge. Things do not go as planned and now all their friends think they're dating. He's solved his roommate issue but gained an even bigger one.Or has he? Well, there's only one way to find out exactly where he stands with Alistair.Maker's breath.
Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	Accidental Alliance

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen mumbled angrily, burying his head under his fluffy pillow to muffle the noises coming from his friend’s room. Andraste, it sounded like a gymnastic event. What the fuck were they doing to create such a racket?

Actually, nevermind. He really didn’t want to know what Dorian and his latest fling were capable of in that department _._ Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he jammed in his earbuds and found a playlist loud enough to drown them out.

Checking the time, Cullen shot off a rapid-fire text to his best friend.

_C: I need your help with something._

There was only a brief pause before he received a response.

_A: Sure thing. What do you need help with?_

_C: Revenge._

_A: Oh-ho! This is gonna be good. When and where?_

Cullen grinned. He knew Alistair would never say no to an opportunity to prank someone.

_C: Next Saturday. My place. Come by around 8. You’ll see what I mean then._

_A: I’ll be there._

_C: Thanks. I appreciate it._

_A: Anytime._

* * *

A week later Alistair lounged across Cullen’s bed with his laptop, dicking around online while he waited for whatever revenge plot his friend had in mind. Cullen leaned in his desk chair, feet propped on the desk, lazily twirling a pen through his fingers while he waited for the inevitable weekend show to start.

Popping open his mini-fridge, he tossed Alistair a beer who caught it without removing his eyes from the blinding screen, a self-satisfied smirk quirking the corner of his lips.

“Show off,” Cullen playfully groused.

Alistair snorted as he cracked it open. “Says the guy who lobbed it behind his back.”

Reclaiming his seat smugly, Cullen saluted him with his can. “Guilty. Though I’m surprised you noticed. You haven’t looked up from your computer all night.”

Arching an eyebrow at his long-time friend, Alistair snapped it shut and set it aside. “A blatant lie. I was enjoying the movie earlier, but you herded us in here before Dorian came home.” Hazel eyes flashing mischievously, he studied Cullen with interest. “This level of secretive is unusual for you.”

Flipping directions on the bed, Alistair brought his head closer, mindful to keep his voice low under the music blaring in the room. A thrill of boyish excitement coursed through him, reminding him of years spent planning harmless hijinks when they were younger.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about? I’m dying of curiosity.”

Cullen’s reply was rendered moot as lurid moans, accompanied by a chorus of loud curses and squeaking bed springs poured through the adjoining wall. Jerking his thumb to the thin barrier, Cullen huffed a chuckle at Alistair’s disbelieving expression.

“Holy shit! Okay, I get it now. Maker, Cullen, you should’ve called me sooner. That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“I think the ‘fucking’ is obvious,” he retorted dryly, causing them both to snicker.

Waggling his eyebrows, Alistair slid off the bed and set aside his drink. “Right, how do you want to play this?”

“I mean -”

“I _know_ the game plan. My question is, are we both jumping on the bed or just me?”

The blonde grinned and waved his hand. “Be my guest. I can pitch in on the sidelines if you need backup vocals.”

Alistair snorted again with a wicked gleam in his eyes and eagerly rubbed his hands. For the first time since dreaming up this scheme, trepidation settled low in Cullen’s gut as his best friend lowered the music and clambered on his bed.

Maker, were they really about to resort to such juvenile antics? Honestly, he should have spoken to Dorian like an adult and asked him to keep it down the next time he brought someone home. But no, they were about to convince his good friend he was fucking his _best friend_.

Before he could nix their mad plan, Alistair started hopping lightly on the mattress, sending the pillows flying and rocking the bed frame. Cullen was transfixed when he moaned - deep, low, _raw_. In that moment, he knew he was the one screwed in this fake scenario.

“Fuck, yes, Cullen! Right there!”

Shooting the blonde a wink, Alistair bounced from the center of the bed to the headboard and knocked it in quick succession against the wall, cursing and singing Cullen’s praises all the while. Cullen’s ears burned with how invested Alistair became in his role. He shouted how much he loved his cock, begging for more, urging him faster. His moans vacillated between throaty “baby, don’t stop” and desperate gasps for air, which might actually be necessary with the way the damn fool was milking this utterly stupid plan.

Cullen wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep in his bed and _not_ think about this. Which was very good and very, very bad. This was a whole new side of Alistair. A side he didn’t realize he wanted to be part of, but Andraste preserve him, he _wanted_ in an entirely different way now.

Waving a hand at him, Alistair snapped him out of his reverie and tapped his throat as he moaned again. Dread weighed him down in his chair, but he knew he couldn’t remain completely quiet during this performance.

_Maker save me._

Breathing deeply to steady himself, Cullen held his gaze and loudly groaned the one thing on his mind. “Fuck, Alistair.”

Grinning broadly, Alistair knocked the headboard a few more times with a final yell of his name at the top of his lungs. Collapsing on the bed, he brushed the damp tendrils of auburn off his forehead with a blinding smile as he tried to catch his breath.

Merciful Andraste, he truly did look as though Cullen railed him through the mattress, flushed and panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. A sudden urge to claim Alistair’s plump lips and give him a reason to repeat every obscene thing he’d shouted to the rooftops washed over Cullen.

Several tense moments passed captivated by one another’s gaze before they finally registered the absolute silence from next door with wide eyes. Alistair’s shoulders shook as he struggled to rein in his laughter, jolting Cullen out of his chair and tossing him a pillow to smother the hiccuping giggles.

Snagging a bottled water from the mini-fridge, Cullen settled on the bed alongside his friend and passed it to him without a word. Inclining his head in thanks, Alistair chugged the whole thing in one go and Cullen couldn’t tear his eyes from the elegant line of his throat as he swallowed.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Playful hazel eyes met his and Cullen blushed, aware his gaze was probably a little too revealing in the wake of Alistair’s pornographic performance.

“Um, thanks for doing that,” he mumbled in embarrassment.

“No problem,” Alistair whispered. Even hushed, his voice was wrecked, and it sent heat coursing through Cullen’s veins.

He’d never considered Alistair as more than a friend. Alistair was attractive, certainly. One would have to be blind not to find his golden complexion and well-muscled frame, housing a kind heart and a wicked sense of humor, anything less than handsome. But now Cullen appreciated things he’d never really paid attention to. His aquiline nose and chiseled jawline, the slight point of his ears, and long, slender fingers belying his natural strength.

How had he gone so long without realizing his best friend was gorgeous?

Clearing his throat softly, Alistair rolled his eyes in exasperation and rubbed his neck. “Sorry, looks like I’m whispering all night. It sure shut them up, didn’t it?”

Chuckling under his breath, Cullen nodded. “Indeed. That was quite a show.”

Alistair beamed. “Well, I hope so! It was bloody exhausting, though. Mind if I crash here tonight?” he asked, smothering a yawn.

Cullen’s stomach somersaulted, but he shook his head with a smile. “Of course not. Want me to make you a cup of tea? To, uh, ease the soreness?” he stammered as his ears grew hot. Golden-brown eyes flicked to him, surprise visible in them before it melted into something fond and a little shy.

“Would you mind?” he croaked, forcing Cullen to suppress a shudder.

“It’s the least I can do. The honey and lemon will help, and hopefully, you’ll have a voice tomorrow. Make yourself comfortable. You know where I keep everything.”

“Thanks,” he whispered as they rolled off the bed to go their separate ways.

As Cullen prepared the tea, he told himself not to read into Alistair’s reaction moments ago. He was simply grateful for the offer of a therapeutic drink and embarrassed by the circumstances requiring it. A sense of shame they shared, in that case.

His face flamed in the semi-dark kitchen as he recalled the things Alistair said - the praise shouted with _enthusiasm_. There were moments Alistair held his gaze during a particularly lurid moan, eyes flashing with something he couldn’t decipher. Bracing himself on the counter, Cullen shivered in the unnatural quiet.

It wasn’t real. He hadn’t meant it. Neither of them so much as hinted they wanted more from their decades' long friendship. Cullen knew Alistair enjoyed any excuse to prank others. This was merely a favor. A favor for his best friend. Nothing more.

Then why couldn’t he shake the butterflies in his gut as he headed back with Alistair’s tea?

Sliding into his room, he caught sight in his periphery of Alistair shrugging into one of his t-shirts. Cullen swallowed hard as he watched the well-defined muscles roll with the motion before disappearing, noting he also wore a pair of his pajama pants slung low on his hips.

_Andraste take me now._

Sauntering out of the bathroom, Alistair shot him one of his signature smiles, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He hummed appreciatively as he gingerly took the mug Cullen passed him, eyelids fluttering shut with the first tentative sip. Cullen noted the fresh scent of soap on his skin, the hair along his temples dark from washing off sweat. Gracing Alistair with a weak smile when he met his gaze, Cullen grabbed a set of sleep pants and a shirt, hopping into the bathroom to change.

Splashing cool water on his face, Cullen toweled off roughly, hoping the violent scrubbing would disguise his overly flushed cheeks. He grumbled under his breath at his stupidity. This couldn’t become awkward between them. He had to keep his sudden attraction in check. There was no way he was losing his best friend to his harebrained scheme.

Exiting the bathroom, he paused at the sight of Alistair half-propped against the headboard, a blissful expression softening his features as he lowered the mug from his lips. Cullen’s heart stuttered slightly, and he wished he could claim Alistair’s peace came from more than a hot tea.

_Maker, damn it. Not helping, Rutherford._

Crawling under the sheets, mindful of the scalding liquid between them, Cullen asked, “Is it to your liking?”

Cracking his eyes open slightly, Alistair smirked. “Isn’t it always? We’ve been preparing each other’s drinks for, oh, about twenty years now.”

“I am aware,” he drawled, his lips curving as his friend’s smile grew. “Still, this situation is a little unusual. Consider it my apology for asking you -”

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered,” Alistair interrupted. “You merely said you wanted to get revenge. _I_ offered to make an unholy racket. No harm, no foul, Cullen,” he insisted.

Cullen nodded curtly while Alistair quickly polished off his drink. Setting aside the mug, Cullen switched off the lamp on his nightstand and they settled underneath the covers. They’d shared a bed hundreds of times over the years, even a sleeping bag during a camping trip as teens when Cullen’s flew out of their tent and into the lake. Yet, this was the first time he was hyper-aware of Alistair’s body heat and soft puffs of air occasionally ruffling his natural curls as they evened out.

“Night,” Alistair murmured as he descended easily into sleep, as though nothing was amiss. Cullen knew better though when he whispered good night.

Flashes of his best friend screaming his name played on a continuous loop. He stared mutinously at the ceiling for hours while a thousand questions swirled to a chorus of Alistair’s moans and pleas for more until exhaustion finally dragged him into the Fade.

* * *

Morning arrived far too quickly, yanking Cullen rudely into consciousness. Damn his circadian rhythm. It didn't appreciate the idea of a weekend or sleeping in.

Turning his head, a small smile tugged his lips as he studied the man next to him. How was it possible for Alistair to be even more attractive with his hair mused and pillow creases in his cheek? His long lashes fluttered faintly and a shin accidentally grazed his leg as the man stretched, but Cullen rapturously drank in his facial tics as he slowly roused.

The little nose crinkle-pout combination as he tried to force his eyes open was _not_ adorably sexy. No, he did _not_ want to brush his lips across the wrinkle between his brows to see if it would smooth out. The stunning hazel eyes that warmed infinitesimally when they saw him and the sleep rough voice wishing him good morning certainly did _not_ affect him in ways they never had previously.

Crawling out of bed, the pair trudged blearily to the kitchen for coffee. Their shoulders occasionally brushed in the narrow hallway like a thousand times before, but the air crackled with a fierce tension that hadn’t existed before last night.

Cullen halted abruptly in the living room, causing Alistair to bump into him, but he snagged the blonde by the elbow before he toppled over. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Alistair smirked to find their friends filling every available seat and spilling onto the floor. Dorian must have texted everyone overnight. Sly bastard.

Still holding onto Cullen, Alistair gently directed him to the kitchen. Cullen shot his roommate a withering glare, but Dorian was unrepentant, his gray eyes flicking between the two of them intently.

“Waffles, then? I can make enough to feed everyone,” Alistair offered.

Grumbling, Cullen pulled out the waffle maker, while Alistair gathered ingredients. They worked seamlessly, moving fluidly around one another with an ease borne of years of intuitive friendship. Alistair made waffles and brewed a fresh pot of coffee while Cullen fried the bacon and whipped up a large batch of veggie scrambled eggs.

Alistair caught him adding an extra item to the mixture when Cullen thought he wasn’t looking. Leaning over his shoulder with a grin, he asked, “Did you just add cream cheese to those eggs?”

Chuckling softly, Cullen replied, “Your favorite.”

Ducking his head to hide his blush, Alistair returned to the beeping waffle maker before it burned the pastry. Focusing on the task at hand, Alistair tried not to think about amber eyes boring into him, separated by mere inches in the privacy of Cullen’s room. And he _definitely_ did not let the addition of cream cheese go to his head.

Of course, Cullen knew they were his favorite. He was in Alistair’s childhood kitchen the day he added a dollop as a lark and promptly swore to never make scrambled eggs without it again. Cullen teased him, claiming he’d say the same about any cheese, and Alistair retaliated by tossing a spoonful across the table, which set off a food fight they spent the next three hours cleaning.

Yet, the addition of his secret ingredient after last night held more weight than usual.

When breakfast was ready, their friends (who’d observed from a distance in hushed tones) swarmed the kitchen in an assembly line. Tucked against the small island together, Cullen and Alistair shared a plate and sipped their coffee in uncharacteristic silence.

It wasn’t unusual for them to share food. They regularly split their meals when they went out to eat and ordered something they knew the other would also enjoy. Their friends were used to it, but this was the first time any of them saw them share a single utensil. Passing the fork between them, they alternated bites, even absentmindedly feeding one another if the other was drinking coffee on his designated turn.

The last waffle segment Alistair fed to Cullen, his eyes crinkling over the rim of his mug as Cullen smiled around the cutlery. An entire conversation took place between them; an intricate series of facial tics and body language no one understood except them. Setting the fork down, Alistair leaned in and wiped away a stray crumb from Cullen’s mouth, his hand lingering longer than necessary on his stubbled cheek.

Everyone held their collective breath, but Alistair lowered his hand with a tiny smile, placing their plate and his empty mug in the sink. Without explanation, he breezed through the crowd and headed for Cullen’s room with his best friend hot on his heels.

“Kaffas!” Dorian swore in frustration when they abandoned the group.

Once in his room, Cullen watched Alistair collect his clothes from the day before and slink into the bathroom without a word.

What the fuck happened? And what _hadn’t?_

For a brief moment, he’d sworn Alistair was about to kiss him and he wouldn’t have stopped him, audience or no. From the moment they woke up, things between them were noticeably different. There wasn’t one thing Cullen could point to, necessarily, more an altered dynamic, but it was tangible and he wasn’t averse to it.

But was Alistair?

They hadn’t discussed it, so he couldn’t be sure, and he certainly didn’t know how to ask without making things incredibly uncomfortable.

Alistair emerged wearing yesterday’s rumpled jeans and t-shirt, startling Cullen from the rabbit hole his mind tumbled into. Unfurling his arms from his chest, he pulled out of his slouch, aware his posture gave the wrong impression. While he might be confused and frustrated, it wasn’t directed at Alistair. All the blame for this monumental fuck up belonged squarely to him.

“Sorry about that,” Alistair murmured, his stomach knotting in response to Cullen’s defensive stance. “I didn’t see the point in fueling their theories one way or the other with a conversation. I doubt they would have listened to our denials, anyway.”

Sighing quietly, he shot Cullen a lopsided smile. “This way we give the impression of being legit and you can ‘break up’ with me in a week or whatever. At least Dorian isn’t likely to keep you awake on weekends anymore.”

It was a sound strategy, and with their eclectic crew of friends, Cullen knew Alistair was right. Outright denying a relationship would further the belief they were actually in one, but pretending to be together for a few days and ending their pseudo-relationship would keep them out of their hair.

If it were truly such a brilliant idea, why did it make him nauseous?

“You’re right, of course,” his mouth answered. Cullen immediately wished it were possible to kick his own ass when the light in Alistair’s eyes dimmed.

Slapping a too-large grin on his face, Alistair collected his laptop and shoved it in his messenger bag. Sitting briefly on the edge of the bed, he jammed on his shoes, swallowing the bitterness of guilt and shame bubbling in his chest.

“Well, on that note, I should go. Don’t forget Lels’ birthday party Friday.”

Finding his voice, Cullen replied, “So, should I pick you up then?” His friend stiffened imperceptibly, though he knew Alistair well enough to catch it. Wincing internally, Cullen barreled on, hoping to salvage the situation.

“I was planning to anyway since you’re more familiar with this club than I am.”

Barking a laugh, Alistair retorted, “Maybe you’d be familiar with it if you’d stop turning us down every time we invite you to hang out.”

Waving airily, he answered, “Perhaps, but we both know it’s not my scene. However, I’m not stupid enough to miss Leliana’s birthday, no matter where it’s being held.”

Slipping the bag strap over his chest, Alistair smirked, “Smart man.”

Hesitating at the door, Alistair shifted his gaze to Cullen for a split second. It was a terrible idea to accept Cullen’s proposal, despite their dating deception, but he didn’t have it in him to refuse. Regardless of the horrible awkwardness clawing its way between them, they were best friends, and he couldn’t deny him.

“Yes, you can pick me up. I’ll be ready by seven. Lels wants to have dinner before the drinking starts.”

Nodding slowly, Cullen murmured, “I’ll see you then.”

They walked through the apartment together, careful to not accidentally bump into one another, rolling their eyes in tandem at the crowd lingering in the living room. Tossing them a cheeky salute, Alistair skipped out the door with a laugh that stole Cullen’s breath. It was a miracle his unsteady fingers kept a grip on the coffee mug as he moved it from the island to the sink.

Exiting the kitchen, he glared at the crowd of expectant people gesturing meaningfully at him and the door Alistair fled through. _Bloody bastard, leaving me with the vultures._

“No,” he firmly stated.

“Cullen,” Dorian simpered, “why didn’t you tell me about this recent _development_ in your relationship?”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Dorian grinned wolfishly. All the man required to complete the villainous caricature he affected was to twirl the end of his mustache. “You needn’t worry about conversation, my friend. Let Alistair do the talking.”

His eyes widened when Dorian tapped his phone screen and Alistair’s licentious vocalizations echoed through the room, shocking everyone present into silence. Striding forward, Cullen grabbed the device and quickly deleted the recording.

“I am _not_ having this discussion. End of story.”

Unperturbed, Zevran piped up from the corner. “We can always ask Alistair.”

“No,” Cullen growled. “Leave him out of this. We don’t owe any of you an explanation.”

“So defensive,” Leliana smiled. “I approve, for the record.”

Raking a hand through his curls, Cullen snapped, “It’s not like that!”

Cassandra gasped excitedly. “You _love_ him! I told you, Josie!”

Scowling at his friends, he reminded himself to breathe. These were people he knew merely wanted him and Alistair to be happy. People who’d be delighted if they were happy _together_. People he wouldn’t disappoint with the truth, no matter how sorely tempted he was to give up the ruse to end the interrogation.

Scoffing in irritation at the mess his stupid prank caused, Cullen headed to his room, flipping them off over his shoulder when a medley of voices congratulated him.

_Maker’s breath, what a disaster._

* * *

Cullen watched Alistair put the finishing touches on his hair with growing hunger. He hadn’t been able to _stop_ thinking about the man, and after a week his self-restraint was dangerously thin. It didn’t help that he looked positively sinful in dark wash jeans and a forest green button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His eyes kept flicking to the hint of golden skin on display through the two buttons Alistair left undone.

Tonight would kill him.

“How’s it look?” Alistair asked through his reflection.

Shoving off the door frame and into the bathroom, Cullen studied his hair and fiddled with a couple of strands unnecessarily for an excuse to touch it. Yet again, he was hyper-aware of Alistair’s proximity and heavy stare, the musky scent of his cologne enticing and sensual. But he was too keyed up to ask the question he’d been choking on for days.

“Perfect.”

Alistair grinned and eyed Cullen’s outfit critically. “You won’t get too hot in the club in that blazer?”

He shook his head with a smirk. “No. I doubt I’ll be on the dance floor much, but I can always leave it in the car if I change my mind.”

Frowning skeptically, Alistair pursed his lips in thought. He couldn’t get a read on the situation and he’d tried all week. In every text message or quick phone call over the last few days, but Cullen always seemed like himself. Effortlessly calm and collected, not riddled with anxiety about Alistair’s stunt last weekend. But tonight… tonight there was an undercurrent of _something_ between them.

He couldn’t resist testing it.

“Maybe,” Alistair casually replied. “What’s the shirt underneath look like?”

Their eyes met briefly as Cullen shrugged off the fitted blue jacket, revealing the heather gray tee underneath. There was a tense pause as Alistair slowly checked him from head to toe.

“Yeah, it looks great,” Alistair finally answered.

Chuckling to mask the unsteady timbre of his voice, Cullen headed for the front door while he slid on his blazer. Alistair’s keys jangled behind him as he gathered assorted items and slipped them into the ass hugging pockets of his jeans.

The ride to the designated restaurant was unusually quiet. Cullen drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and Alistair bounced his leg in time with the music, but they didn’t speak. Pulling into the parking lot, Alistair turned to him, biting his lip nervously. Guilt chewed his conscience to ribbons during the twenty-minute drive. He’d definitely overstepped the bounds of friendship in his apartment. He didn’t want to risk pushing Cullen away because he couldn’t respect his boundaries. Fear coiled around his heart in an icy grip, forcing him to speak.

“Hey, so, we can clear the air with everyone. We don’t have to keep this going. It wasn’t one of my brighter moments, anyway,” Alistair croaked weakly.

Cullen frowned slightly, his pulse quickening with the idea of his friend giving him an out. Did Alistair want one?

“If it bothers you, then yes, we’ll tell them it was merely a prank on Dorian. But it doesn’t bother _me_ , Alistair.”

Alistair tilted his head slightly, a carefully neutral expression on his face. “You’re _sure_ it’s not a problem? You’ve been… tense around me. I would rather have them pissed off at me for being an idiot than make you feel uncomfortable, Cullen.”

Well, there was no denying their situation was strange, but Cullen took responsibility for it since it was his moronic plan that got them here. Alistair fiddled with his watch anxiously and acting on impulse, Cullen grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I really don’t mind. I’m kind of enjoying it, actually.”

Alistair’s blush trailed below his collar, and Cullen forced himself not to track it. “You’re enjoying lying to our friends?”

“Maybe a little,” Cullen confessed with a smirk. “Dorian had it coming, after all. He forced me to listen to him every weekend for two months straight. The least we can do is mess with him. Besides, think of all the times Zev or Leliana have pranked us. Turnabout is fair play, right?”

“Right,” Alistair confirmed quickly. _Too quickly_ , he chided himself mentally. “So, how are -”

“We playing this?” Cullen finished with a cocky grin, repeating his question from last week. Alistair laughed, sending warmth flooding through him. “I figured we can keep doing what we are right now.” He nodded at their linked fingers, idly wondering when and who threaded them together.

“Works for me,” Alistair said, allowing a sliver of hope to settle in his chest.

Cullen permitted himself a moment to bask in the glow of Alistair’s smile, his breath hitching imperceptibly when a thumb rubbed feather-light circles across his knuckles. He was certain Alistair didn’t even realize he was doing it. A minor thing he noticed the man did with the women in their group whenever they needed a soothing touch. But in all the years he’d known Alistair, he’d never done it to him until now. An inconsequential act; it shouldn’t mean anything, yet somehow, it meant more than he cared to admit.

“Let’s head inside before Krem eats all the breadsticks,” Cullen joked. Alistair reluctantly released his hand, leaving Cullen oddly bereft at the loss. As soon as he locked the vehicle, Cullen entwined their fingers again. A dizzying rush of elation welled within him as they re-established the connection, and he unconsciously tightened his grip when they located their friends inside the restaurant.

“Happy birthday, Lels,” Alistair beamed as he hugged her, unwilling to relinquish his hold on Cullen’s hand.

“You two are adorable,” she trilled in excitement, giggling as the men blushed. “Thank you for coming! Please, sit. I hid a basket of breadsticks for you,” she said with a wink.

Dinner was a fun affair and the glass of wine paired with their meal helped them both relax. A few teasing comments reached their ears when their clasped hands appeared on top of the table, but everyone respected Cullen’s wishes from the week prior. He released Alistair’s hand when their entrees arrived, requiring the use of it to eat. Like magnets, though, they found one another while they awaited dessert.

By now, Cullen questioned how much of their “relationship” was for show and what was genuine. He knew the answer on his part was embarrassingly in favor of authentic feelings. It wasn’t Alistair’s features he only recently realized were stunning, but him: the total package. It took Cullen far too long to discern why his previous relationships never worked long term. None of them met the unconscious standard he held them to.

Glancing at the man beside him under golden lashes, he caught Alistair already staring at his profile. Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but the arrival of dessert interrupted him and he decided against asking what was on his mind.

Again.

Alistair observed Cullen throughout dinner, noting the casual affection and increasingly numerous glances directed his way as the level in his wine glass dropped. Neither of them were outstanding actors, so he hoped the shift between them was real, but he also worried how much was fueled by alcohol. He huffed in frustration behind the server when their dessert arrived, cutting off whatever Cullen was poised to say.

As they shared the tiramisu, Cullen actively curbed the desire building in his gut with every hushed moan of delight Alistair unintentionally let slip. His ears burned in remembrance of Alistair’s throaty groans and shouts praising his prowess in bed, and it didn’t matter that the entire thing had been a farce. Cullen sampled a taste of what an uninhibited, aroused Alistair sounded like and it was permanently seared in his brain.

On a whim, Cullen swiped his finger through the decorative whipped cream on the plate. Holding it aloft, he arched an eyebrow in challenge, watching with fascination as Alistair’s gaze darkened. Without missing a beat, soft, full lips wrapped around him, tongue swirling obscenely to catch every sugary dollop, their eyes never breaking contact. Cullen’s heart rate tripled when Alistair hollowed his cheeks and slid off his finger with a muted _pop._

_Maker’s fucking breath._

Leliana cleared her throat loudly beside Alistair, breaking the spell holding them captive. With a startled blink, Alistair sat back in his chair, a blush rapidly heating his face and neck. He tried to unlace their fingers, but Cullen tightened his grip, purposefully rubbing soothing circles along his freckled skin. Smiling shyly, Alistair returned the gesture, and they fell into conversation with the others as though nothing happened.

When the checks arrived, Cullen snatched Alistair’s and passed both with his card to the server. Alistair shot him a questioning glance which Cullen ignored as he washed away the lingering taste of dessert with his remaining wine. Upon the server’s return, Alistair slipped him a twenty Crown note, his mouth quirking into a teasing smirk in response to Cullen’s half-hearted glare.

Closing the distance between them, Alistair whispered against his ear. “If you’re buying dinner, the least I can do is cover the tip, don’t you think?”

Signing the receipt with a flourish, Cullen threaded his fingers with Alistair’s. “That’s not typically how I treat my dates.”

“Mmm. Is that what this is? A date?” Alistair asked, low and sultry.

Cullen turned his head slightly and held his burnished gaze. “And what if it is? What would you say?” Andraste, he was near enough to kiss. All he had to do was move an inch and plump lips would press against his own, tasting of tiramisu and wine and Alistair.

Alistair smiled, immensely grateful his voice didn’t waver when he answered. “I’d say I will allow you to pick up the tab for dinner, but I’m covering drinks at the club. I’m too egalitarian to let you pay for everything.”

“What if I want to because I think you’re worth it?” The pulse in the hollow of Alistair’s throat sped up, but he squeezed Cullen’s hand and pulled out of their intimate huddle.

“Drinks are on me. I insist.”

Rising to his feet, he tugged Cullen to his feet by their joined hands as they followed their friends out of the restaurant. Once in his vehicle, their hands sought each other over the center console and Cullen marveled at how perfectly they fit.

Alistair supplied directions to the group’s new hang out and he followed them on autopilot; far too distracted by Alistair’s presence opposite him and the warmth of his palm against his own to concentrate fully on anything else. Cullen couldn’t stop replaying Alistair’s brazen reaction to the whipped cream or his lips brushing the shell of his ear during their whispered conversation. They were cautiously tiptoeing around a simple truth: their prank seemed to have careened from fantasy into reality, and neither seemed inclined to stop it.

But what did it mean? Was it simply curiosity? An itch they wanted to scratch after Alistair’s performance? Or was there more between them? Did he want a relationship with Alistair? Did Alistair want one with him? Why did the possibility leave him lightheaded?

Damn it, he needed to talk to Alistair at some point tonight.

Zevran was waiting for them outside the club and waved them around the bouncer. “Come! I have already paid for your entry. Part of my birthday treat for Leliana.”

“Zev, you didn’t have to do that,” Alistair protested as they entered the building.

“Why not?” Zevran yelled over the music. “I enjoy treating my friends, especially those who don’t feel they deserve to be catered to. Besides, what the fuck else am I going to do with my money? I have enough bad habits already. I need to balance them out with altruistic ones, sí?”

Cullen laughed, and Alistair glared at him in minor aggravation. “What? He has a point, Alistair. It’s his money. It’s not like he’s hiring hitmen with it.” Leaning close as they followed their elven friend through the crowd, Cullen purred in his ear. “Let those who care about you spoil you now and then.”

Even in the odd strobe lighting, Cullen could see the blush blooming under the collar of his shirt. Emboldened by wine and unable to resist, Cullen hooked the open collar and pulled it gently aside to confirm what he already knew was a full-body blush. Humming appreciatively at the swath of exposed skin, he flicked his gaze to Alistair’s and momentarily forgot to breathe. Hazel melted to liquid gold, barely perceptible around blown pupils, brimming with undisguised want.

Reaching their friends, the men pried their gaze apart with reluctance, oblivious to the surreptitious glances shared among the others. A server passed but catching sight of the pair quickly redirected.

“Gentlemen, what can I get you tonight?”

“Two brandies, neat,” Alistair stated with an assertiveness that made Cullen’s knees weak. “His drinks are on my tab.”

The girl’s expression fell slightly, but she nodded politely. “Sure thing. Anything else for your friends?” The others raised their drinks to show they were fine for the moment, and she left to fill their order.

Dorian chuckled. “Honestly, you two are disgraceful. You can’t come to a club looking like sex on legs when you aren’t single. You’re going to give people a heart attack.”

“Jealous, Dorian?” Alistair needled.

“Insanely,” he replied smoothly. “Aside from myself and Zevran,”—he saluted the elf who shot him a saucy wink—“you’re the most attractive men here. And to add insult to injury, you’re together,” he sighed dramatically.

The server returned with their drinks, and they clinked their tumblers before sipping. The others leaned forward intently, breathless with anticipation as the men shared a heated gaze over their glasses. Cullen’s tongue darted across his lips to catch a rogue drop of brandy, and Alistair’s eyes avidly tracked the movement, his entire body taut and poised to spring. For a half-second Cullen leaned in, but some hidden cue broke their stare. A collective sigh of disappointment escaped their friends as Cullen rubbed his neck nervously and Alistair bit his lip in chagrin.

“Well!” Leliana exclaimed. “Who wants to dance with me?” Catching on instantly, the others quickly polished off their drinks and ran onto the floor, leaving them alone.

“You know,” Alistair murmured, spinning his brandy on the table, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Usually that’s bad,” Cullen teased, quirking his lips in a faint smile.

His friend snorted quietly. “I can’t deny you’re right. You do know me better than anyone.”

“I do, which is why you can trust me with whatever’s on your mind.”

Alistair smiled shyly. “I know,” he murmured. All the things Alistair wanted to say welled in his chest, but they died on his tongue. Raising his glass in salute, he knocked the remaining brandy back like water, an action that made Cullen thirsty for something far more appealing than alcohol.

Chuckling, Alistair shot him a mischievous glance. “Wanna dance?”

Cullen frowned minutely at the shift, but he rolled his eyes playfully, which Alistair accepted as a yes. Taking his hand with a boisterous laugh, Alistair dragged him on the floor, where their friends swarmed them with raucous exclamations.

Separating, they took turns dancing with Leliana and the others. Regardless of who he partnered with, Cullen’s eyes never left Alistair. Dancing was one of the few times his friend completely relaxed, allowing his uncertainty to bleed away, revealing the confident man inside. The person he usually reserved for Cullen and carefully safeguarded from everyone else.

Things had always been easy between them, freeing them to be fully themselves. Cullen didn’t fear judgment for whatever sarcastic jibe might fall out of his mouth in response to Alistair’s quick wit. Their silences were comfortable and relaxing without pressure to fill it with mindless chatter. He was also aware most outsiders believed they were psychic when in reality they were just well versed in each other’s body language.

Alistair’s heated gaze landed on him over Zevran’s head across the floor, and a jolt of electric desire coursed up Cullen’s spine. As it shocked along his nerve endings, it coalesced in his chest, pooling over his heart, burning hotter with every beat.

_I love him._

The clarity ripped the air from his lungs, forcing him to suck in a ragged breath. An insane thought flitted through his mind. There was one way to find out, to be sure, and maybe discover if it was mutual. Releasing Cassandra with a quick smile, Cullen inched toward him against the crush of bodies on the floor, trying not to grind his teeth at the contact. There was only one person he wanted touching him right now.

Alistair shivered as Cullen stalked toward him, determination sparking in his eyes, lips curved in a soft smile. His heart raced in his chest, so hard and fast he feared it might explode. Defenseless and exposed with nowhere to run, Alistair anxiously waited for him. This could go one of two ways and he hoped if things went south Cullen would be merciful enough to put him down quickly.

Jerking his head at Zevran in dismissal as he closed in, Cullen twined their fingers and reeled Alistair to him. Breathing hard, he murmured in the minuscule gap between them. “I know one thing we haven’t done to convince everyone we’re together.”

“Mmm, what’s that?” Alistair asked quietly. His hands fell naturally to Cullen’s hips, thumbs hooking the belt loops of his jeans to steady himself as much as to touch him.

“We haven’t kissed,” Cullen answered. Staring into Alistair’s eyes, he tumbled headlong into molten pools, finally making sense of the cadence his heart pounded for a quarter of his life.

_Alistair, Alistair, Alistair._

His chest swelled with affection for the man he grew up with and slowly fell for - so gradually Cullen almost missed it. It was a soft fall, not at all the way books or movies led him to believe. He wasted years chasing that euphoria in other people. Yet, when he considered every milestone in his life - every achievement, every loss - Alistair was either by his side or the first he called. Cullen couldn’t live his life without Alistair, because it wouldn’t truly be living.

Only one person, man or woman, could fill the void in his life. The one who already _did_.

“No, we haven’t,” Alistair whispered, unable to speak any louder with his heart firmly lodged in his throat. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t. Do you?”

Tilting Cullen’s chin, Alistair leaned to meet him, a breathy “yes” nearly swallowed by the bass line floating past his ear as their lips touched. Tender, yet edged with heat, it promised to catch fire given enough fuel. It was enough to tantalize their friends without scandalizing them, though wonderful as it was, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t answer the question bouncing in his brain, but Cullen could say with certainty he wanted more. He wanted every kiss Alistair had in his repertoire, and he wanted to give him new ones. Kisses Cullen never shared with anyone, because they didn’t deserve them. Because they weren’t _him_.

They separated in a daze, emotions too numerous to name swirling in their eyes. Unhooking his thumbs from Cullen’s jeans, Alistair cleared his throat.

“Want to take a break?”

“Yes,” Cullen automatically agreed, following him off the floor and smiling to himself when Alistair linked their hands.

At the table, they ordered another round of brandy and water. Settling on the stools the pair people watched, trying to guess stranger’s day jobs or who they were with to pass the time. Their fabricated stories became more ridiculous as they drank until their nerves drowned in a sea of fiery liquor.

After polishing off their second round, Alistair angled his body to face him fully. Slender fingers ghosted over the tips of Cullen’s as he sidled closer. They didn’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing, and he was incapable of keeping up pretenses anymore.

“Earlier you wanted to know what I was thinking. Still interested?”

“Of course. If you still want to tell me,” Cullen answered, studying him intently, anxiety churning in his gut.

Breathing deeply, Alistair said, “I’ve been thinking _this,_ between us, was never a prank to me and now it seems it isn’t one to you either.”

Cullen swallowed hard. “No,” he rasped. “It isn’t.”

“What changed?” Alistair asked, lacing their fingers together.

“You made me realize what an idiot I’ve been to not see this sooner.”

“I’ve jumped on your bed before,” Alistair joked.

Blushing furiously, Cullen said, “Never with such spectacular commentary. But it’s not simply that, Alistair.”

“Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

“No. I realized I’ve held every person I dated to an impossible standard. One they could never hope to meet.”

“Ah, well. We both know I’ll fail, as well,” he replied mournfully, his expression shuttered as he released his hand, but Cullen wouldn’t have it.

Snaring Alistair around the waist before he could flee, Cullen continued, “You misunderstand. I compared them to _you,_ Alistair.” Hazel eyes widened and his mouth fell open with an audible click, rendered speechless for the first time in twenty years.

Using his silence to his advantage, Cullen barreled on. “ _You’re_ the only one I want, but I’ve been blind to what was right in front of me. I’ve thought of nothing, except you all week and tonight we moved into this so naturally. You’re already an extension of me, Alistair. This is merely us going from where we’ve grown comfortable to where we _belong._ But if you don’t want that, I understand, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Alistair melted in his grasp. “Cullen, if you don’t kiss me I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“Thank the blessed Maker,” he growled as he cupped the nape of his neck and yanked him in for a scorching kiss.

The club burned to ash as their lips met, and Cullen found what he’d spent far too long searching for. Alistair deepened the kiss, and they moaned in unison as their tongues danced, savoring the taste of each other under the sweet liquor. Cullen groaned unabashed when Alistair caught his bottom lip with his teeth as they separated to breathe.

“That was nothing like the first kiss,” Cullen panted. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Years,” Alistair answered with a wry smile.

Cullen stared in shock. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do anything? A hint, something!”

Alistair ducked his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t want to lose you. If I couldn’t have you the way I wanted, I could at least have your friendship. Keeping you was always most important.”

“You hopeless, gorgeous idiot,” Cullen replied fondly.

Chuckling, Alistair retorted, “I could say the same to you.”

“Yes, you can,” he smiled. “Does this mean what I _think_ it does?” Cullen timidly asked.

“That I love you and have for the last, oh, six years or so? Yes, yes, it does," Alistair admitted softly.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen croaked, simultaneously overwhelmed with devotion and guilt at the confession. “I-I don’t know when it happened. It was smooth, easy -”

“Like breathing,” Alistair interjected and Cullen nodded slowly in agreement.

“Yes. It’s been there for years, but I didn’t see it. I’m sorry.”

Alistair smiled warmly, eyes shining with affection when he cupped his cheek. “Don’t apologize. We’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Pressing a gentle, but firm kiss to his scarred lips, he murmured against them, “I love you, Cullen. I’ve waited years to say it. I hope you don’t mind if I say it all the time.”

“I love you, Alistair. Believe me, I’ll never tire of hearing it,” he whispered. Glancing around the crowded night club, he asked, “Want to get out of here?”

“Maker, yes,” Alistair readily accepted. “My place. I don’t have obnoxious roommates.”

“For which I am supremely grateful,” Cullen replied as they flagged a server to pay the tab. Cullen pointedly passed her a twenty for the tip when she returned, arching an eyebrow at the man next to him. “We’re even.”

“We are _nowhere_ near even,” Alistair huffed as he scribbled his signature. “That and the tip would have made us even on the cost of dinner and you -”

Cullen halted his tirade with a kiss, smirking in victory when Alistair sank into the embrace. “Is our first argument really going to be over me treating you because I want to?” he teased when they parted.

Blushing, Alistair shook his head. “Not if you kiss me to shut me up. And it wasn’t an argument, more of a disagreement.”

“Let me spoil you a little. You’ve never complained before,” Cullen replied, brushing his thumb lightly across his cheekbone.

Shifting anxiously, Alistair said, “We were just friends before. I could always pay you back whenever or let you win the next time we played video games. It feels different now.”

“Well, it isn’t. I enjoy doing it. And I won those games on my own merit, thank you very much,” he groused as they double-checked their pockets.

Alistair snorted. “Yeah, uh-huh. You tell yourself that, love.” The endearment fell so casually from his lips it escaped his notice, but not Cullen’s.

Catching him by the wrist, Cullen tugged him close. “Say it again.” Alistair frowned slightly, mentally replaying his words until his mouth rounded into an “O” and a deep blush warmed his skin.

Wrapping his free arm around Cullen’s back, Alistair pulled him flush. “Is this what you want, love?” His gaze darkened when Cullen shivered in his hold. “Good to know,” Alistair purred against his ear. “I don’t know about you, _love,_ but I need you soon or I might die.”

“Not until I have you,” Cullen responded hoarsely.

Inhaling sharply, Alistair quipped, “On that note, time to tell the birthday girl goodnight. Immediately.”

Laughing brightly, Cullen led them through the throng to their friends, giving them all brief hugs goodbye. The group watched the couple run off the dance floor and disappear around the corner before exchanging money.

Zevran chuckled as he counted his winnings. “They honestly thought we believed their little prank. What adorably handsome morons they are.”

Josephine giggled over Leliana’s shoulder, shooting Krem a cheeky wink. “Let them believe it. At least it finally got them together. Poor Alistair has been pining for years.”

“Don’t assume Cullen wasn’t just as besotted,” piped Dorian. “He was merely too stupid to see it.”

“Idiots,” they chirped in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be purely a crackfic, but of course, I couldn't resist turning it into something both humorous and fluffy. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know down below if you did! xoxo 
> 
> Happy Dragon Age Day!! 
> 
> \- Jordie 💖


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